


Hyacinth Girl

by blakefancier



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Rogers is a wife, a mother, and a nurse. She's also Captain America. Or the story where Sarah gets the serum instead of her son and kicks HYDRA butt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hyacinth Girl

**Author's Note:**

> “You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;  
> They called me the hyacinth girl.”  
> —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,  
> Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not  
> Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither  
> Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,  
> Looking into the heart of light, the silence.  
> Öd’ und leer das Meer.  
> \-- T.S. Eliot "The Wasteland"
> 
> Also check out the amazing [art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5032237) that [dark_roast](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_roast/pseuds/dark_roast) created for my fic.
> 
> And also check out this lovely [art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5044270) by [Lets_call_me_Lily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/pseuds/Lets_call_me_Lily), which was also inspired by my story.

Sarah was sitting on the exam table in her torn and bloody nurse's uniform while Bette took blood samples from her arm. Across the room, Mr. Stark and Colonel Phillips argued, their voices harsh and loud, drowning out the usual noise of the infirmary: the chatter of medical staff, the click of heels on the linoleum floor, and the buzz of equipment. 

They were arguing about her future and she knew that she should be angry, that she should stalk across the room and tell them both to go to hell. But she couldn't stop staring at her reflection in the mirror right across from her, at the changes to her face, to her body.

She'd filled out, grown taller; she wasn't the half-starved girl who everyone looked at with pity. She wasn't the girl she had been five hours ago when a HYDRA agent had shot her and killed Doctor Erskine. 

Poor Doctor Erskine; she clenched her hands in fury, glad that they'd caught the bastard who had killed him. 

And now Mr. Stark and Colonel Phillips were deciding her future and she might never see Joseph or Stevie again. God, oh God, please, how would they survive without her? Joseph could barely hold a job because of his injuries and Stevie was a sickly babe. 

Sarah felt despair wash over her and she closed her eyes to hold back the tears. She might have given herself over to them anyway when she heard a familiar voice.

"That's enough, Bette. No, I don't care what anyone says. Look at her. At least let her change out of those clothes," Lizzie said.

Sarah opened her eyes and smiled at her best friend. She'd met Lizzie a few months after she and Joseph had landed in New York. Lizzie had saved their lives. 

"They don't got the sense God gave a goose." Lizzie smiled back at her. "I got some clean clothes for you, Sarah, my girl. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and changed."

"What about them?" She nodded towards the two men still arguing.

"They'll be at it for awhile. They won't even notice we're gone." Lizzie grabbed her arm and tugged, urging Sarah into the next room. "You really got everybody talkin'. All nonsense o' course. They're acting like you went and shot yourself on purpose. Like you set it all up to take the serum for yourself. How did you know it would work?"

"Erskine," she said simply. The dress Lizzie had found for her was too small, but she'd make do. "He said he'd have better luck with a woman than a man. But no one would listen to him." 

Lizzie snorted. "Yeah, it's bad enough they got us working in every other job. If we took soldiering from them, what would we need men for? Well, other than the obvious." Lizzie smirked and waggled her eyebrows.

Sarah blushed a brilliant red. "Lizzie!"

But Lizzie just laughed. "Oh, go on, Sarah. You're a married woman with a baby."

"It's not decent to talk about such things." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

"All right, I'm sorry," Lizzie said carelessly, then looked Sarah over. She tutted softly at what she saw. "It'll have to do, I suppose. Gosh, you're a stunner—like Marlene Dietrich."

Sarah swallowed down the lump in her throat; she didn’t want to look like a movie star. She wanted to look like herself. "Am I horribly different? Do you think Joseph will recognize me?"

Understanding crossed Lizzie's face and she grabbed Sarah by the shoulders. "Of course he'll recognize you. And so will your boy. They love you more than life itself, Sarah. That's never gonna change, no matter what you look like."

She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. "All right."

"All right." Lizzie smiled at her. "Now let's go see what those fool men think they've decided."

Sarah nodded and followed Lizzie back into the exam room. The Colonel was gone, but Mr. Stark stood at the window, tapping his foot and checking his watch. "Mr. Stark," she said softly and he turned. The impatient look on his face was swept aside by an all-encompassing smile that made Sarah's stomach flutter. 

"There you are, Sarah." Mr. Stark reached out, touched her elbow, then let his hand fall to his side. "We were wondering where you went."

"I found her some clothes that weren't bloody and torn," Lizzie said harshly. "Really, Isaac, for a genius you really do have air between your ears."

Sarah was mortified, but Mr. Stark only blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling an apology. "It's all right, Mr. Stark, really. I understand that you had bigger worries." He and the doctor had been friends. "Am I being shipped off to Alamogordo?"

"No," he said. "Senator Brandt offered another solution. Which you don't have to take, Sarah, not if you don't want to. We'll find another solution. Remember that, okay?"

"All right." She shared a puzzled look with Lizzie. "What about you, Mr. Stark. Are they keeping you stateside?" 

"That's classified, I'm afraid." Mr. Stark gave her an apologetic look. "But we are going to be moving soon, I can tell you that much. Speaking of which, you'd better go see Carter, Lizzie. You know how he gets when someone isn't where they're supposed to be."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, then took Sarah's hand. "I'll talk to you later, Sarah. I promise."

Sarah nodded and hugged Lizzie before letting the girl go. She fidgeted slightly, staring down at her bare feet. She'd have to find shoes that fit.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat and rubbed his mustache. "Senator Brandt is waiting to talk to you. But after, I can… I can take you home."

"I'm allowed to go home, then?"

"Of course," he said, shock evident on his face. "Sarah, we're not going to keep you a prisoner. What you did, you did to save your own life. We're not going to punish you for that." 

Sarah's eyes stung and she let out a shuddering breath. "I… I wasn't—" Her voice broke and before she could stop herself, she began to cry.

Mr. Stark looked momentarily panicked, before he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. "Hey, hey, it's all right, Sarah. It's going to be all right. I swear, I swear. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He pressed his cheek against the top of her hair and she knew she should pull away, that this was inappropriate behavior for a married woman, but she leaned into him, burying her face against his chest. 

When her tears dried up, she pulled back, wiping her eyes, and sniffling. "We shouldn't keep the senator waiting."

"No." Mr. Stark cleared his throat. "No, we probably shouldn't." 

***** 

After her meeting with the senator, Mr. Stark drove her home. They sat in his car in front of her building, the radio playing softly. She was wrapped up in his coat, which smelled of tobacco and his cologne, because the night was chilly.

"It'll be all right," Mr. Stark said quietly. "He loves you; it doesn't matter what you look like, you're still you. You're still the generous, strong, intelligent woman you were this morning." 

She blushed at the tone of Mr. Stark's voice and looked out the window at the building. "I should go up."

"Do you want me to stick around for awhile? I can."

"No." Sarah shook her head. "It'll be all right, Mr. Stark. It's like you said, I'm no different than I was this morning. Besides, me and Joseph, we've been through a lot." They'd get through this, too.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" The hopeful note in his voice made her sad. 

"Maybe." She smiled at him and took off the coat. "Wherever you're going, be careful." 

"I always am." The smirk he offered up was slightly mocking.

Sarah let out an amused huff and got out of the car. She didn’t look back, but she knew if she did, he would be watching her.

***** 

The apartment was dark and cold and a sense of relief flooded her. Sarah knew that Joseph would have to see her eventually, but she wasn't quite ready. She slipped into their bedroom, going immediately to the bassinet and looking down at her son.

Stevie's thin, tiny body was bundled tight against the cold, his face flushed with a fever he'd had all week. Soon, she thought to herself. Soon he would have all the medicine he'd need—that was one good thing about Senator Brandt's offer. 

She stroked Stevie's cheek, then kissed him and murmured a soft, " _Mo stór._ " When she was sure Stevie was fine, she sat down on the bed and that's when Joseph woke up.

"Sarah?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep, and reached out to turn on the lamp.

"Don't. Not yet." Sarah wasn't ready yet. She knew in her heart that it wouldn’t matter, they'd been through so much—emigrating to America, the first few years here when they'd almost starved to death, the accident that had scarred Joseph's lungs and ruined his body, leaving him too weak to leave his bed some days—but in her head was another matter. 

"What's wrong, Sarah?" He sat up, leaning back against their headboard. "Were you fired?"

"No, no, I… I wasn’t fired." She took a deep breath. "There was an accident—I'm fine! Joseph, no, I'm fine. Really. But someone died and… and I'm different. I'm changed. Joseph, I…"

This time she didn't stop him when he turned on the lamp and when he gasped, she closed her eyes. "My God, Sarah, my God." He touched her face, stroked her broad shoulders, her slim waist, the new expanse of her hips. "How?"

"I can't tell you." Sarah's lips trembled and she clenched her hands. 

"It's a miracle," he said in wonder and she laughed, bitterly. "What is it? Sarah… Sarah, are they going to take you away from me? From us?"

"Not quite." She did open her eyes then and the love she saw on Joseph's face was a relief. 

"We could run." He took her hands. "We've done it before."

"And where would we run to, Joseph? Back home where our parent will beat us down with words and deeds and a blood feud that happened generations before we were born? Is that what you want for Stevie?"

"I want Stevie to have his ma."

"So do I," she said. "But we can't spend the rest of our lives running. That's no life. Some problems you've got to meet head on."

"And brace yourself?" Joseph smiled at her. 

"Yes. Besides, it's not as bad as that. I got another job offer." Sarah squeezed his hands and let out a sigh of relief when he kissed her. Then she told him, in hushed tones, of Senator Brandt's offer. "It's good money, I made sure of that. Enough that you and Stevie will be well taken care of. For a few coins, Mrs. McRae will look in on you two, make sure you've got clean underthings." 

"I don't like it. Stevie… He…"

Sarah covered his mouth with her hand. "I know, but that's our only option. And you have to know I'll come home when I can. It won't be for long, Joseph. This war can't last forever. Don't you always say we'll beat back those damn Nazis any day now?" 

He nodded. "When are you leaving?"

"In three days." Which wasn't long at all, but it was longer than the senator had wanted to give her.

"All right," he said. "All right." Then he pulled Sarah into his arms. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured, stroking the back of his neck. "So much." 

***** 

"I already know how to speak, Mr. Martin," Sarah said, frowning at Senator Brandt's aide.

"I know that you do, Sarah." He smiled at her charmingly. "But, well… We're trying to create an American icon and that means your accent will have to go."

"My accent? What's wrong with my accent? It's how I speak, it's how my husband speaks and my ancestors spoke—"

"It's not the way an American speaks," he cut in.

Her face grew hot with anger and humiliation. "I _am_ an American! I pay my taxes, I've done my part for the war effort, I'm bringing up my son to be a good citizen. You've got no right to say that I'm not an American!"

"That's not what I meant, I apologize." He held up his hands. "Look, plenty of actors have to take speech classes. It's just the thing people do. Please, Sarah, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." 

She wanted to argue, but she could see she wasn't going to win. "Fine."

***** 

Sarah sat in front of the mirror in her dressing room and felt out of place. As if who she had been was no longer who she was. The senator's people had made her into something she didn't want to be and tomorrow she was going to step in front of the crowd and everyone would see that person. 

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run home and pretend that the past two months were just a dream. She covered her face and wondered if maybe Joseph had been right; maybe they should have gone home to _Corcaigh_.

Sarah was just considering what it would take to make her way back to Brooklyn when there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

She had been expecting one of the chorus girls—Daisy or Karen—so she was surprised when Mr. Stark stepped into her room with a bouquet of hyacinths. 

"Hello, Sarah." Mr. Stark held out the flowers, a bright smile on his face. "I was in town and I thought I'd wish you luck in your debut tomorrow." 

Sarah took the hyacinths and held them close, her eyes stinging with tears. "Th-Thank you." 

"What's wrong?" He leaned against her makeup table and touched her shoulder.

"Everything. Everything's wrong." She set the hyacinths on the table and looked up at him. "I feel like a… a puppet. They pull on my strings and I have no choice but to move. I speak the way they want me to, dress the way they want me to, am called what they want to call me. But where am I? Why can't there be a part of me on that stage?"

"So cut your strings."

"I tried, but it's not that easy. If don't do this, they'll send me to Alamogordo and I'll never see my family again." 

"No," Mr. Stark said, grasping her hands in his. "No, they won't. I won't let them. I won't let them take you from your family. I swear to you. I swear."

He looked so determined that she couldn’t help but believe him. She almost asked him why he was helping her, just to hear him say the words, but cruelty was not in her nature. "I have an idea. Will you help me?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"I'll make a list. But first." She pulled her hands from his and took out a pair of scissors. "I need you to cut my hair. Short, like a man's." 

"Okay." He frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to be like Marlene Dietrich." 

***** 

When Sarah stepped out on stage the next day, she was wearing an outfit she'd spent all night sewing—with trousers, not a skirt. Mr. Stark said she looked like a red, white and blue nightmare, but she called herself Captain America.

The crowd loved it.

***** 

After the show, Mr. Stark invited her to dinner, and in the throes of triumph, she said yes. An hour later, they were sitting in a dark corner of a French restaurant that she and Joseph could never have afforded. Mr. Stark was in one of his fancy suits and she felt out of place in her threadbare dress and too short hair.

She looked around at the couples, laughing and enjoying each other's company and she felt… guilty. "I shouldn't have come," she murmured softly.

"Why not?" Mr. Stark poured her a glass of champagne. "You deserve to celebrate your victory."

"Is that what this is?" she asked, fiddling with her silverware. "I'm a married woman, Mr. Stark. And you… you have quite the reputation as a ladies' man. I love my husband and my son: I'm not looking to be your fluff on the side."

"Well, that was blunt."

Sarah shrugged. "I'm a blunt woman."

"Maybe I'm not looking for another bed partner. Maybe I just want a friend." He took a sip of his champagne. "Strange as this might seem, I don’t have a lot of friends." 

She could believe that. From what she'd seen, a lot of men were intimidated by his genius, and as for women, well, the women he associated with were usually only looking for a good time. "Why me?"

"You intrigue me. You have since the first time I saw you and you were scolding Phillips for yelling in the infirmary." He smiled. "And then you told me to either shut my mouth and do something useful or get out." 

Sarah blushed at the memory; that hadn't been a good day for her. Both Joseph and Stevie had kept her up and she'd been short tempered. Not that they hadn't deserved her sharp tongue. "I'm no one special, Mr. Stark." 

"I don't think that's true." Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows. "You make a very convincing man."

She laughed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I was the youngest of seven children, and the only girl. I spent a lot of time in my brothers' cast off clothes, roaming the streets of _Corcaigh_. I learned quickly that boys had more fun than girls. They could get sweaty and dirty and be as loud as they wanted to without someone telling them that it wasn't ladylike." 

Mr. Stark let out a huff of amusement. "Well that explains it. When did you and your family move to America?"

"They didn't. Just me and Joseph." She took a sip of champagne and sneezed when the bubbles got up her nose. "Excuse me. We… We fell in love when we were young, but our families didn't like each other. So when we were fifteen, we found a priest who would marry us, then the next day, we got on a boat. And here we are." 

"That's amazing. I don’t think I could ever love someone that much." 

"Oh, I hope that's not true." Sarah touched his hand, which he turned to grip her fingers. "I love Joseph more than breathing and the only person I love more is Stevie. I don’t know what I'd do without either of them. I hope you find someone like that."

"So do I," he whispered, then cleared his throat and pulled his hand away from hers.

"What about you? You must have had an interesting childhood."

He shook his head and chuckled. "You'd be wrong. I'm just a poor Jewish kid from the Lower East Side. My mom was a seamstress in a factory and my dad sold fruit until he died from drinking too much."

"But here you are, rich and famous. Not a lot of men can say they've come up from nothing." 

"I guess that's true," he said. 

"And you're doing good work for the military. Actually, I'm a little surprised you have enough time to spend with me." 

"I needed to tie up a few loose ends before I headed out with the rest of the team. I finished a little early and thought I'd see how you were doing." He made it sound as if it were nothing.

"I appreciate the help," she said.

"Think nothing of it." 

*****

Sarah my love,

I miss you more every day but I'm glad for the money. Stevie is sick again and the doctors say he needs more medication. Still, our boy is a fighter. I found him standing today, holding on to the leg of a chair. He looked so much like you, fire in his blue eyes, his little fists clutching tight around the wood. You would have been proud of him. Our treasure.

I tell him stories about you every day; his mam doing her part for our soldiers. I'm proud of you and I know that if he could understand, he'd be proud of you, too. There's a poster of you in our room over his bed. 

I laugh every time I see that poster. It reminds me of the first time I met you. Do you remember, my love? Both of us not a day over twelve and you in your brother's clothes with your hair under a cap. I thought you were a boy. And when I found out the truth, after you bloodied that English boy's nose, I fell in love with you. 

I'm still in love with you. More and more each day. 

Write me soon, my heart. 

Joseph

Sarah carefully folded the letter and put it with the others, tucked safe in her tiny secondhand suitcase. Everyone was excited and nervous about heading out to the front. She only hoped they wouldn't be gone too long; she hoped to be home before Stevie learned how to walk.

***** 

There was water in her boots. There was water in her boots and her toes were as cold as her fingers and she thought that Italy was supposed to be warm and sunny. Sarah zipped up the leather jacket one of the girls had given her and ducked into a tent to keep the rain from soaking through her clothes. 

She leaned back against one of the poles, closed her eyes, and wondered if it would be worth it to find somewhere to nap. She didn't open her eyes until she heard someone approach. 

"You look tired, Mrs. Rogers."

Sarah was surprised to see Agent Carter standing before her, looking every bit like a soldier—it put her back up. "Well, aren't you charming." 

He sighed, a frown twisting his mouth. "I just meant—" 

"I know what you meant," she said sharply, then softened her tone because he hadn't done anything to her. Joseph was always telling her to let go of the past. "It's been a long three months, sir." 

"Longer for others." Agent Carter looked her up and down. "Erskine wanted more… You could be a great asset, Mrs. Rogers."

"I'm not a soldier, Agent Carter. I'm just a nurse." She snorted gently. "I was a nurse." 

"Women from all walks of life are doing their part for the war effort. Like your friend Lizzie did." 

Sarah frowned. "What do you mean? What about Lizzie?"

"You didn't hear? No, I suppose you wouldn’t have." He rubbed his hand over his face. "She went out with some medical staff and some soldiers to tend to wounded in the field. They were ambushed by HYDRA and captured." 

"HYDRA? The bastards that killed Doctor Erskine?" Sarah went numb as she thought about Lizzie in the clutches of those monsters. She clenched her hands and her jaw and stormed out into the rain. By the time she entered Colonel Phillips' tent, Agent Carter following behind her, she was soaked and furious. 

"What are you doing to get Lizzie back!" she demanded.

Phillips, who was sitting behind a desk, looked up from the letters in his hands. Behind him was a map of Austria. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Rogers. It's always a pleasure to see you again." 

"Elizabeth Connelly, Colonel. How do you plan to get her and the others back?"

"It's called winning the war, ma'am." Phillips glared at Agent Carter. "You and I are going to have words later." 

"Yes, Colonel," Agent Carter said stiffly. 

"That's no plan at all," Sarah said, leaning in so that Phillips had to look at her. "The war could go on for years!"

"Not that it's any of your business, Mrs. Rogers, but we don’t have the resources to mount a rescue. I have to look at the bigger picture." Phillips glanced at his watch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. And I think you have a performance in twenty minutes. Our boys always appreciate you chorus girls. "

Sarah considered punching the man, but that would only ruin the plan formulating in her head. She gave Philips a dirty look, turned on her heel, and strode out of the tent. Her first stop was the props tent, where she grabbed a helmet, her shield, and the keys to one of the USO jeeps. She tossed her things in the back and was just about to climb into the driver's seat when Agent Carter grabbed her arm. 

She shoved him, hard, and he stumbled back. He might have slipped but he caught himself with the side of the jeep. 

"You don’t even know where you're going!"

"The Austrian Alps, halfway between Kitzbühel and Klagenfurt." She sneered at him. "I can read a damn map!" 

"And what are you going to do?" he responded angrily. "Walk there? You don't even have any weapons, Mrs. Rogers."

"You said that I had a place in this war. You said I could make a difference. Did you mean it or was that just some of your English claptrap?"

"I meant it." Agent Carter ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Wait. Please, wait. I have a better way of getting you there."

***** 

"So we're gonna steal a plane and fly it into enemy territory," Mr. Stark said with a grin. "Sounds like fun. Let's do it!" 

"It's your plane, Isaac," Agent Carter replied, fondly exasperated. 

***** 

Sarah had never been flying before and, rather than terrifying her, she found it exhilarating. She tried to enjoy the experience, and not think about what the hell she was going to do when they reached Austria, but Agent Carter kept trying to show her how to shoot a weapon.

Finally, she snatched the gun from his hands. "I know how to use a gun, Agent Carter. A lot of English soldiers seem to think that Irish women are easy game. Shooting 'em in the foot scares them off, and they don't report it because it's too humiliating."

He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Mrs. Rogers, I know you don't like me very much, and I understand your reasoning. But if we're going to find Lizzie and those men, we need to trust each other." 

"We? You're not going with me, Agent Carter." Isaac said her name and she shushed him. "You two are going back to base. You'll be in enough trouble as it is." 

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen—" The rest of Agent Carter's words were cut off when a barrage of bullets sprayed against the hull of the plane. He turned his head to Mr. Stark, and that's when Sarah brained him with the butt of her gun.

"What the hell?" Mr. Stark stared at her a moment, before another volley of bullets pulled him back to the matter at hand. "He's going to be furious when he wakes up."

"But he'll be alive." She tucked her gun into her holster, put on her helmet, and grabbed her shield. "I'll be getting off here, Mr. Stark. Head straight back to base once I'm gone."

"I can take you the rest of the way, Sarah." 

She clicked her tongue. "Don’t argue with Captain America." Before he could try to get in another word, she jumped.

***** 

A sense of calm fell over Sarah as she approached the base, the trees and thick underbrush of the forest hiding her movements. She heard the sound of vehicles and ducked low, watching. As the last truck rolled past, she jumped onto it and slipped into the back, surprising the soldier who was sitting there. 

Sarah hit him in the face with her shield and he went down like a sack of potatoes; she smiled. 

***** 

Sarah expected it to be more difficult to sneak into a secret enemy base, but there was less security than she expected. And the men she did come across met with her shield, or in one case, the door.

It was a strange place—a weapons factory that manufactured no weapon she'd ever seen before. She pocketed a gun clip that was filled with a glowing blue substance; Mr. Stark could figure out what it was. 

***** 

They kept the men in cages, like animals and Sarah took great pleasure in bashing her shield against the guard's face. The men looked up at her, incredulously and one of them said, "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

She cocked her head and said in a deep voice she only ever used onstage or with fans, "I'm Captain America." She took the keys from the guard and dropped it into their cells, then jumped from the walkway onto the ground. Sarah looked carefully as the men poured from the cages, but she didn't see Lizzie, and her stomach dropped. "There was a woman who was captured, Elizabeth Connelly, where is she?"

A few of the men exchanged glances, then the soldier who had asked who she was earlier spoke, "There's an isolation ward in another part of the factory, but no one's ever come back from it."

Damn! "All right, the tree line is northwest, eighty yards past the gate. Get out of here fast and destroy what you can. I'll meet you in the clearing with anyone I find." She turned to head out when one of the men stopped her. 

"Wait. You know what you're doing?"

"I've knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times." She saluted them, then hurried away before someone could try to stop her. 

***** 

Sarah quickly made her way towards the second building on the base, where she was sure to find Lizzie. Other than the tests she took right after Doctor Erskine's death, Sarah had never really explored the extent of her newfound abilities and she was amazed. She was faster, stronger, more agile than ever before. Not only that, she could think more quickly and react before the enemy even realized she was striking out at them. 

Sarah cut a swathe through the base, leaving a trail of fallen HYDRA soldiers. She could hear the men she'd freed doing the same. It felt good to finally have the chance to do something, to fight these men who performed evil deeds in the pursuit of power. 

When she entered the second building, it was mostly abandoned as the HYDRA soldiers had been sent out to deal with the escaped prisoners. She dispatched the few who lingered, pausing when she saw a short, nervous looking man run down the corridor while clutching a hat, coat, and briefcase.

She darted into a dark room and that's where Sarah saw Lizzie, who was strapped to a table, her dark hair cut short, and her face pale. She was muttering her name almost deliriously and Sarah felt fury surge through her.

"Lizzie, oh Lizzie, it's all right. I'm here." Sarah rushed forward, ripping the straps from Lizzie's wrists and ankles. "I'm here." 

"Sarah?" Lizzie's eyes fluttered open. "Am I dreaming?"

"No, you're not dreaming. I came to find you as soon as I heard." She helped Lizzie sit up. "You didn't think I'd leave you here, did you?"

"How?" 

Sarah heard an explosion in the distance. "We'll talk about it later. Right now we have to leave. Can you walk?" 

Lizzie nodded. "To get out of here? I'll run if you need me to."

"That's my girl." Sarah smiled and gave Lizzie a moment to gather her strength. She looked around the room, trying to figure out exactly what they were doing here, but none of the equipment was standard, and the only thing that made any sense was the map on the far wall. 

"I'm ready," Lizzie said, looking a bit unsteady on her feet. 

Sarah wished she could carry Lizzie, but she needed to be free to protect them when they came across enemy soldiers. They moved as quickly as they could with Lizzie's stumbling gait, down the corridor to a system of catwalks. As they searched for a safe exit down, they had to duck and cover as fiery explosions erupted from the building floor. 

Okay, not downward, then; at least not here. "Come on, Lizzie." Sarah directed her towards a catwalk that would take them over the destruction. 

"Captain America! How exciting. I'm a great fan of your films."

Sarah and Lizzie both froze as those words cut through the air. That's when Sarah saw them; the small, mousy man from earlier, and another: a tall man in a HYDRA uniform.

Lizzie hissed softly. "Johann Schmidt." 

"So Doctor Erskine managed it after all." Schmidt sneered as he walked towards them. Sarah moved to meet him. He laughed suddenly. "A woman! You're a woman! Not exactly an improvement."

When she was close enough, Sarah slammed her fist into his face, grinning in satisfaction when he stumbled back. "It is from where I'm standing." 

"You dare?" he roared.

Schmidt threw a punch, but Sarah brought up her shield. The metal warped, but held. She readied herself to return his blow, but the catwalk began to separate, pulling them towards their companions. 

"I don't know what lies Erskine told you, girl, but I was his greatest success!" Schmidt dug his fingers into his skin just below his jaw and began to pull it off to reveal a red skull-like face.

Sarah stared at him in horror. 

"We have left humanity behind, girl. I embrace it, proudly, without fear! We are the future!"

"I’m not going to be a part of any future you have a hand in," she said.

Schmidt didn't reply; he and his companion retreated to an elevator.

Lizzie tugged on her arm. "Sarah, let's go. We still need to find a way out of here." 

***** 

Sarah had to carry Lizzie the last fifty yards to the clearing and set her down gently under a tree. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and hungry," Lizzie said with a wan smile. "I'll be all right, Sarah. Right now you have things to do." She nodded towards the two men walking their way.

Sarah kissed Lizzie on the forehead, then got to her feet. "Major, Sergeant, what's the situation?" 

"James Falsworth, m—Captain. And this is Timothy Dugan." 

They both saluted her and it took Sarah a moment realize that they weren't mocking her; she nodded a greeting. "Situation?"

"We've a little over four hundred men out here, Captain. Some are too weak or injured to walk all the way back to… well, wherever the hell we're going," Falsworth said. 

"We do what we can for the injured and we move everyone who isn't mobile into one of the transports." Sarah worried at her bottom lip. "Arm as many men as you can. The strongest men will surround the group and act as the first line of defense. I'll take the front."

Dugan coughed and said softly, "Take point."

"That right, I'll take point. We'll leave in an hour." She lifted her chin and looked at Falsworth, waiting for him to comment. 

"Yes, m—Captain," Falsworth nodded. "With your permission?" 

"Of course," she said awkwardly. "Dismissed."

He saluted her again, then ran off, ordering men as he went. 

Dugan stayed where he was, watching her curiously. "I'd like to be on point with you, Captain."

"Why are you listening to me? I'm not really a captain; I'm not in the military at all."

"You risked your neck to save ours. Even if we get ambushed within the next five minutes, at least we'll die fightin'." Dugan shrugged. "Besides, I've served under greener men than you, Cap." 

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Why don't you go help the Major and have someone bring water for Lizzie."

Dugan grinned and gave her a lazy salute.

She flopped down next to Lizzie. "I feel like I'm having a fever dream. I'm going to wake any minute now and Stevie will be crying and Joseph will wonder what's for breakfast." 

"I'm having a hard time believing it, too." Lizzie leaned her head on Sarah's shoulder. "This has to be the stupidest and bravest thing you've ever done in your life. I don't know whether to hug you or yell at you." 

"I'd prefer the hug," Sarah said, making Lizzie laugh. "I couldn't leave you there, Lizzie, not after I heard what had happened. Joseph and I would have starved a hundred times over if it weren't for you and your family taking us in. You're my sister, Lizzie. And sisters don't abandon each other."

"Oh, Sarah." Lizzie threw her arms around Sarah and hugged her tight. "I love you, too."

***** 

"The stars are always so bright out here," Lizzie said as they bunked together for the night. They'd been walking for almost ten hours when Falsworth suggested that they bivouac for the night. 

"And there are so many of them." Sarah was cold and hungry, but it was something she was used to, so she ignored the discomfort and snuggled closer to Lizzie. She smiled as she thought about Joseph and Stevie sleeping under the same stars, safe in their beds. "How did it happen? How did you get captured?"

"Don't be mad." Lizzie turned and buried her face against Sarah's shoulder. "It was my choice." 

"What was your choice?"

"Some of the men on base were testing a few of Isaac's new guns and they were really awful shots. So I teased them a little. I told them I could do better than that with my eyes closed." Lizzie lifted her head and grinned. "Turns out I was right. Anyway, there was a recruiter there with the British army. They're a lot less strict about women fighting."

"You joined the British Army?" Sarah sat up and stared at Lizzie. "Are you touched?"

"They only send me on special assignments." Lizzie clenched her jaw and braced herself on her elbows. "I'm good at it, Sarah."

"You could have been killed." She felt sick at the thought of Lizzie in danger, but she understood why Lizzie had agreed. 

"We have to stop those monsters." Lizzie sat up too and touched Sarah's arm. "Isn't that what Father Flanigan always said we should do? Fight evil when we see it?"

"Yes," Sarah said, remembering the look of madness on Schmidt's demonic face, the fire and destruction held in his eyes.

*****

When Sarah was a girl, her father used to come home from a night out with his friends and he'd sit in his chair and tell the boys about his youth, when he fought for the freedom of all Irishmen. He'd send Sarah out of the room to her mother. "This tale's not for you, lass," he would say.

And Sarah would sit in the other room while her mother worked on her sewing, and fume because she wanted to hear the stories of glory and pain as much as her brothers. 

She remembered when she was about twelve or thirteen, and sulking fiercely, her mother had sighed and took Sarah's hands.

"Men don't like thinking that women understand war, Sarah. They don't like thinking women know what it means to hurt and lose and sacrifice pieces of themselves in hopes of a better day." She squeezed Sarah's hands. "Men can be idiots and sometimes you just have to let them be. And sometimes, you just got to knock them over the head and hope it shakes loose some sense."

That was perhaps some of the best advice her mother had ever given her. 

*****

"Mrs. Rogers, we appreciate your help," Colonel Phillips started. 

"Help?" Sarah gave him an incredulous look. "That wasn't help, Colonel. I did your job! I saved the lives of over four hundred soldiers. Those men can now go home to their wives and children and parents and live long, happy lives." 

Agent Carter, who until now had been standing quietly, cleared his throat. "The British government is going to give her a commendation."

Sarah made a face at that and thought about how appalled her father would be to hear it.

Phillips pointed at him. "You should keep out of this, Carter. You're lucky you haven't been brought up on charges." 

"Oh, quit blustering," Sarah said, standing in front of Agent Carter. "I can be an asset to the SSR, Colonel, if you give me a chance. And to be honest, you're going to need me. I saw Johann Schmidt's true face, I know his strength."

"We can beat him on our own, Mrs. Rogers." 

"Perhaps, but not as quickly as you can with me." Sarah grinned. "Especially since I saw a map of all the HYDRA bases In Europe. I can show you where they are." And she could tell them Lizzie had heard talk of a secret base where all the HYDRA equipment being manufactured was shipped to. Lizzie didn't have a location, but knowing it was out there was important information. 

Phillips blinked at her, mouth falling open. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"If you don't let me help, there are plenty of countries that will. If not the English, then the French." She raised her eyebrows. "Do you really want Captain America working for the French?"

Agent Carter stepped out from behind her. "She's good for morale, Colonel. And I'm pretty sure if we don't give her her own section, Stark will buy her some mercenaries."

"You're both pains in my ass," Phillips said, staring at them both for a long moment. "All right, _Captain_ , I'll have a list of your men for you in the morning."

"Actually, Colonel, I already know who I want."

He gave her a dirty look. "Of course you do. Well, if they say yes, they're yours." 

She tried not to grin too hard. "Thank you, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. The both of you get out of here, I have work to do." 

***** 

Despite all that happened, Sarah wasn't sure the men would agree to follow her into battle. They had no real choice before, but now they could go home or re-enlist if they chose. So she was a little surprised when they all said yes to her offer.

"Really?" she said. 

Morita took a large drink of his beer, then grinned at her. "You saved our butts out there, Cap. If it weren't for you, we'd all be dead."

"If people find out the truth about me, you'll get a lot of grief for following a woman. And one who isn't even in the military." 

"You got a funny way of trying to recruit us." Dugan reached out and touched her hand. "You got good instincts, Cap. And we trust you. We're in. We're all in. Just buy us another round." 

Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "You're a scoundrel, Sergeant."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Yes, ma'am." 

***** 

After buying them another round, she left them to their entertainment, and sat with Lizzie at the end of the bar. "I'm surprised you don't have a crowd of young men vying for your attention." 

Lizzie sipped her Coke and smiled. "You should have been here earlier. I had to beat 'em off with a stick. I guess they all got tired of me telling 'em to get lost. They all say yes?"

Sarah nodded. "They did."

"I thought they might." Lizzie bit her lip, then turned to Sarah. "I want to go with you. No, listen to me. I'm a damn fine shot and I might not be like those men, but I can do what you need me to."

"You were taken prisoner, Lizzie. Those monsters did experiments on you. You should go home. Go back to your parents, go back to Dennis—"

Lizzie snorted. "I don't want to go back to Dennis. Not all of us are made to get married and have babies, Sarah. Some of us want more. I want more. Besides, you can't expect to leave you behind. We're sisters, remember? Sisters watch out for each other."

"What happens if you get hurt? What happens if you—" Sarah's voice broke.

"It's my choice." Lizzie took Sarah's hands. "I want to fight beside you, it's where I belong. If you don't give me permission, I'll only follow you anyway."

"Oh, Lizzie." Sarah pulled the other girl into a hug. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Keep me with you always," she murmured.

Sarah kissed her temple. "I love you, too." They hugged for a moment more, then Sarah pulled away. "I thought I saw Agent Carter with you earlier. Where did he go?"

"He went out into the alley. He said he needed a smoke. I offered to go with him, but I think he's shy." Lizzie smirked.

"Everyone's shy compared to you." Sarah rolled her eyes. "Order me a Coke, will you? I want to tell him that I have my team." 

She slipped out the back exit into the dark alley, wrinkling her nose at the smell of boiling cabbage and rotting food. Sarah didn't see Agent Carter, but she heard a murmur of voices behind a tall stack of crates. She headed towards the sounds, calling softly to Agent Carter. Evidently, he didn't hear her because when she rounded the stack, she saw him. He was on his knees in front of another man and—

"Oh! Oh my God!" Sarah quickly turned away, her face flushing hot with embarrassment. Behind her, the men cursed, and she realized she really shouldn't stay. "I’m sorry, I… I didn't mean to interrupt." Before either of them could reply, she rushed back into the pub.

"Did you find him?" Lizzie asked brightly.

"Let's go." Sarah grabbed her hand and tugged.

"But I bought you a Coke." 

"I'm not thirsty." She tugged harder, pulling Lizzie to her feet. "Let's go now." 

No matter how hard Lizzie questioned her, Sarah refused to tell her what was wrong.

***** 

The next few days were filled with strategy meeting after strategy meeting and Sarah thought they might be trying to bore her into changing her mind. But after working in a hospital for several years, she'd learned how to pick out the important facts from someone's ramblings. 

It also kept Agent Carter busy enough that they only saw each other in those meetings. So she was a little surprised to find herself alone with him after meeting with Colonel Phillips and several generals. Perhaps she shouldn’t have paused to look over her notes. 

Agent Carter walked up to her and stood to her chair. "May we speak, Mrs. Rogers?" he asked, his voice rough. He was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and there was a tremor in his hands. 

She didn’t want to be alone in a room with him; she wasn't sure she could manage without dying of embarrassment. Still, he looked unhappy enough that she agreed, and they both made their way to his office. Neither of them spoke a word until they were safely behind his office door.

"Mrs. Rogers…" Agent Carter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "About what you saw the other night. I… I want… I…" His lower lip quivered, as if he were close to tears and he looked very much like a little boy who was waiting to be punished. 

Sarah supposed he _was_ waiting to be punished. God, he looked so young. "How old are you?"

"How—" He stared at her a moment, then said, "T-Twenty." 

Twenty? Dear lord, he was four years younger than she was. "You're very accomplished for one so young." 

"I suppose." Agent Carter took another step closer and his next words came out in a rush. "Please, please, you can't say anything. Mrs. Rogers, if it comes out that I… that I'm… I'll be dishonorably discharged. My parents, my—I'll be ruined." 

He was falling apart right before her eyes and Sarah couldn't stand to see someone in pain. She took his hands and shushed him. "I'm not going to say anything to anyone, Agent Carter. You're a good man and a good agent; I would be doing the Allies a disservice by telling. Besides, it's no one's business but your own how you conduct yourself with your… friends. But perhaps next time you should find somewhere a bit more private."

He searched her face, as if looking for some proof that she was telling the truth. What he saw must have satisfied him because he relaxed. "Thank you, Mrs. Rogers."

"No thanks needed, Agent Carter."

"My…" He cleared his throat. "My friends call me Martin. Well, except for Isaac. He calls me Marty." 

"Mr. Stark is often the exception," she said with a smile. "My friends call me Sarah." 

"As you wish, Captain." Martin smirked at her and Sarah rolled her eyes. 

"If you're done, _Marty_ , I'm late for a meeting with Mr. Stark." 

He took a step back and she released his hands. "Of course. Please don't let me keep you any longer, Sarah." 

***** 

Sarah was only five minutes late when she pushed open the door to Mr. Stark's workshop. She quickly entered the room, only to be greeted by the sight of Mr. Stark, his head pillowed on his crossed arms, asleep at his worktable. She smiled fondly and considered leaving him to rest, but she was too curious about the shields—they looked like they might be shields—laid out for her. She put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

Mr. Stark grunted and lifted his head; his cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. "Hmm?"

She stroked his stubbled jaw and wondered what it would be like to kiss him. The thought shocked her and she jerked her hand back. "We have a meeting," she said, far harsher than she meant to and Mr. Stark blinked rapidly. She could see him pulling himself together. 

"Sarah." His flushed cheeks reddened further and he ran his hands through his hair. "I must have… I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's all right. No doubt you spent all night working on whatever this is." 

"Right." Mr. Stark stumbled to his feet and smiled. "Well, you said that shield of yours really came in handy, so I started thinking, maybe you might want something to carry with you into battle. Yeah, I know, a little old fashioned, but we're trying to create a myth here, right?"

"They don't look very old fashioned to me," she said with a laugh. She touched a heavy looking shield with knobs on it. "What is this?"

"Electronic relays." 

It looked ridiculous, it all looked ridiculous, but she kept that comment to herself. She let Mr. Stark ramble on as she looked everything over, that's when she saw the curve of metal, half-hidden under some sackcloth. She pulled it out and, oh! "It's light. What type of metal is this?" She ran her hands across the shield, stroking along the cool metal. It felt perfect in her hands. 

"Oh, that's just a prototype," he said. "It's made of vibranium. It's stronger than steel, but a fraction of the weight, and it's completely vibration absorbent. It's the rarest metal on earth. That right there, that's all we got." She looked at him and he snorted. "And of course you want it. Well, who am I to say no to the great Captain America?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, not you, too." 

"What?" He laughed at her. "I think it works for you."

"I keep telling people that I'm not in the military; I haven't earned the right to use that rank." 

"Hey, that's not true at all." Mr. Stark crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "You saved over four hundred men from HYDRA, you've given us the location of almost every HYDRA base in Europe, and, instead of going home, you're going to risk you life to destroy each one of those bases. Speaking of which, have you written Joseph?"

Sarah blushed; his words made her actions sound more heroic than they were. All she'd wanted to do was save Lizzie. The rest had been incidental. "Yes, I sent him a few letters and a telegram. And Colonel Phillips said they were sending someone to talk to him. I don't know how he'll feel about all this, but I hope he can forgive me." 

Mr. Stark touched her arm. "I'm sure he'll understand."

"I hope you're right," she murmured. 

"Of course I am. I'm always right," He chuckled and redirected her attention back at the table. "So let's talk about your uniform. I've got this great carbon polymer that I think will be useful."

She touched the fabric and nodded. "Actually, I have some ideas about that. I had Lizzie draw up some sketches."

"Well, let's take a look at 'em then." 

***** 

The night was cold and Sarah thought they might be getting snow soon. Everyone was huddled around the campfire, too anxious to sleep. Tomorrow, they'd hit their first HYDRA base and Sarah was filled with a nervous energy that left her jumpy. She thought about taking one more walk around the perimeter of their camp, but last time she did that—all of five minutes ago—Morita had given her the stink-eye. So instead, she took a deep breath and sat next to Dernier; the warmth of the fire felt good. 

"Is that your family?" she asked; he was looking at a ragged photo.

" _Oui_." He smiled and passed the picture to her. "That is my wife, Constance, and my children: Maurice and Adalaide." 

"They're beautiful." Sarah felt a pang of longing for her own family. "Are they still in France?"

Dernier nodded. "They're in Paris with my brother and his family. I've been gone so long, they must think I'm dead."

"Why didn't you go home?" she asked, handing him the photo; he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I want them to be safe. I want them to be free. How can they be when the Germans are there? When HYDRA is lying in wait."

"I have a family too; a husband and a son. And I promise you, Dernier, for our family's sake, we'll stop them. We'll stop the Germans. We'll stop them all and someday, I'll bring Stevie to Paris and he can meet your children. " 

"I'd like that," he said softly.

"Good." She smacked him lightly on the back. "Get some rest. We're going to need you well-rested tomorrow." 

He nodded. " _Bonne nuit, mon capitaine_." 

" _Bonne nuit_." 

***** 

They all came to her then, one by one, sitting next to her by the fire and talking to her in quiet tones. That's how she learned about Dugan's favorite bar in Boston, the plans Morita had for his family's grocery store, Falsworth's fiancée, and Jones's desire to get a doctorate in French literature. She listened to each of them, understanding that they were giving her the gift of themselves. When Jones wandered off to his bedroll, Sarah felt exhausted and heart sore. 

Lizzie sat next to her, leaning on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Sarah?"

"I wonder if priests feel this heavy after confession," she said, kissing Lizzie's temple. "Do you have something for me, too?"

"What could I tell you that you don’t already know?" Lizzie looked up at her. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"If I don't make it back, I want you to tell Stevie about me. Do you promise?"

Lizzie didn't protest her request, didn’t tell her she would be fine—they both knew the stakes. "I promise. Though I'm sure Joseph will tell him all about you." 

"Joseph will have the boy convinced I'm a saint. I want Stevie to know the truth about me: the good and the bad."

"Don't worry, I'll tell him all about the time you got drunk on bathtub hooch and started a fight with that Italian girl across the hall." Lizzie grinned and Sarah laughed.

"Well, maybe don't tell him everything," she said, then hugged Lizzie tightly. 

***** 

The air was thick with smoke and the smell of blood and rain drizzled down miserably. Sarah thought victory would taste sweeter, but the faces of the dead looked so very young to her eyes. She didn't regret what she'd had to do, but to think that so many young men could turn towards evil made her sad. And angry. 

She ran a hand through her wet hair and slogged through the mud to where Falsworth, Dugan, and Jones stood. "Report." 

"We have a couple of soldiers still fighting, but Morita and the others are taking care of them. As for the rest," Falsworth said, gesturing to the destruction around them, "we'll have Frenchie lay out a few bombs, as a precaution, but I don't think many will be necessary."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully and reached back to touch the lip of her shield.

"This was your first real battle," Morita said. "Are you all right, Cap?"

Was she all right? She wasn't sure, but she managed to scrape up a smile. "I'm fine, boys. Just a little tired. Let's finish up here so we can head out. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll find someplace dry to sleep tonight." 

"From your lips to God's ears," Dugan said, wiping the water from his mustache.

***** 

Each mission made things a bit easier for her: she learned strategy and different ways of fighting from the boys and Lizzie. She learned how far she could stretch her body: she could walk for miles on a broken leg, beat several HYDRA soldiers senseless with a bullet in her shoulder and nasty shrapnel wound on her side, she could put a knife in a man's guts while he pummeled her face. 

She learned that if she threw her shield just right, she could make it bounce off objects and take down half a dozen enemy soldiers in one go.

It was cold and wet and miserable. But at night, the men would pass around a bottle of whatever liquor they'd found at the last village or HYDRA base and tell bawdy stories until everyone was practically in tears from the laughter. 

It was awful and it was wonderful. 

It was war.

***** 

They were called back to base after their seventh mission out and Sarah was glad. Her team could use the break, she could use the break, and it was only going to get tougher from here on out. The first thing she did after storing her gear and reporting to Colonel Phillips was take a long, lukewarm shower, scrubbing away the dirt and grime until she felt human again. Then she put on a clean uniform, grabbed the package of letters left on her bunk, and headed for the commissary. 

There was never enough to eat out in the field and she was tired of being half-starved. Sarah was almost done with a plateful of some sort of stew when she picked up the first letter and opened it. 

She didn't stop reading until she was done and what was left of the stew in her bowl had become congealed 

Joseph's first letters had been angry, so very angry. He'd cursed her, the military, the Germans… God. But somewhere between the third and fourth letter, something had changed; he'd accepted her decision, as she knew he would. 

He apologized, told her that he loved her and that he always would. He told her that Stevie would be so proud of her, that _he_ was proud of her. "You're my soul," he wrote. "My love, my life, my everything."

She wanted to storm into Colonel Phillips's office and tell him that she'd made a mistake and she wanted to go home to her family. But then she remembered Schmidt's burning gaze and the horrors she'd seen in some of the bases they'd destroyed and knew she wouldn't.

Sarah buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could—And when she got home, ti would all be worth it. It would.

"Are you all right, Sarah?" Martin asked softly. "You didn't get bad news from home, did you?"

She jerked her head up and saw him, and Mr. Stark, standing awkwardly at her table, trays of food in their hands. "No, no, everyone's fine." Except that Stevie had been in the hospital with an infection. 

"Hey, that's great," Mr. Stark set his tray on the table and sat down. After a moment's hesitation, Martin followed. "So how come our favorite agent here gets a 'Martin' but you still call me Mr. Stark?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "He asked me to call him by his Christian name." 

Mr. Stark stuck his fork in what looked like mashed potatoes and wrinkled his nose. "I don't have a Christian name, but I think you can call the man who flew you behind enemy lines by his given name, don't you?"

She supposed he was right. He had done so much for her and he was as much of a friend as Martin. "Very well, Isaac." Her words made Mr.— Isaac smile so brightly that Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm.

"So," Martin said, clearing his throat, "good news from home."

"Yes. Stevie said his first word. It was 'da'." And that shouldn't hurt so much, but it did, and that misery must have shown on her face or in her tone. 

There was an awkward silence, then Isaac said, "We should go out. I know this place that has the greatest band. You'll both love it. You can even bring Lizzie, Sarah." 

"I don't know, Isaac. I was just going to spend the night in." The idea of going out and being among people made her tired.

"Oh, come on, you have to. After the past six months, you deserve some fun." Isaac elbowed Martin in the side. "Marty, tell her that she has to!"

The expression that Martin gave Isaac was so helplessly fond that Sarah felt as if she was looking right into his soul; it was an uncomfortable idea. "Well, it would be good to get off base for awhile. And, Sarah, Lizzie does love dancing and she won't go out without you." His eyes never left Isaac.

She should say no, but Lizzie did love dancing and Martin, well, Martin looked like he was desperate to spend more time with Isaac. And wouldn’t it be nice to get out, wear a beautiful dress, and dance with a handsome man? She sighed. "Oh, all right. But if it all goes to hell, it's on your head, Isaac Stark." 

He just grinned at her.

***** 

As they stood in the hall, waiting for Isaac and Martin to appear, Sarah looked over at Lizzie and smiled at her daring. Lizzie wore a red dress that showed her very ample assets, her dark hair stylish despite how short it was. Sarah could never be as stylish as her friend, but she thought she cut a striking figure in her blue dress. Lizzie said it matched her eyes. 

When the men arrived, Sarah expected Isaac to whistle, as he had the first time he saw her, but instead he just stood there, looking as if someone had hit him in the face with a club. 

Lizzie laughed and took Martin's arm. "Close your mouth, Stark, you'll catch flies." 

"You look lovely," he said, staring at Sarah, then he cleared his throat. "You both look lovely." 

Sarah smiled wryly and stepped up to him. "I'd be flattered if I didn't know you say that to all the girls." 

"Only to the girls who deserve it." He didn't offer her his arm, but she wouldn’t have taken it anyway. 

"So where are we going?" Lizzie asked. 

"A few months ago I found this club with the best house band you ever heard." Isaac grinned and gestured for them to follow him. "They're better than Glenn Miller. You'll love it." 

And love it they did. The band was excellent and the club was filled with people looking for a good time. As soon as they walked through the door, Lizzie pulled a surprised Martin onto the dance floor. Sarah laughed and after a moment's hesitation, grabbed Isaac by the hand and followed Lizzie. 

She hadn't gone dancing in years, but she could do the Lindy Hop just as well as Isaac, which, surprisingly enough, wasn't all that well. They kept stepping on each other's feet and bumping into other people. Finally, they both stumbled off the dance floor to a table in the corner, giggling madly. 

"I though you were supposed to be a real ladies' man. How is it that you dance so horribly?" she asked.

Isaac shrugged, looking a little shamefaced. "Most women don't go out with me for my dancing skills."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, you know what they say about a man's dancing skills." 

"No, do tell."

"Clumsy on the dance floor, clumsy in bed." She reached over and tugged on his mustache; his look of outrage made her start giggling again.

"I have never had a woman complain about either," he said. 

Sarah was feeling bold. "Until now, you mean." 

"Sarah Rogers, you've got a mouth on you."

"Oh, I do." She put a finger to her lips. "A mouth, a nose, two eyes, two ears—"

Isaac grabbed her hands. "And ten lovely fingers." 

Her face grew hot, but she didn't pull away from his grasp. "My hands are bigger than they used to be."

"Lovely," he murmured, pressing his lips to her knuckles.

She opened her mouth to say… well, to say something, but before she could, Lizzie and Martin came towards the table, flushed and laughing. 

Isaac let her go and smiled at the two of them. "So when am I going to get a dance with you, Lizzie, my dear?"

Lizzie sat down and shook her head. "Oh, I saw your moves, Stark. I'm not sure my feet can handle it." 

"What about you, Marty? You 're not gonna let a fella go without a dance partner, are you?"

Martin's cheeks flushed a bright red and he gave a slightly strained laugh. "You're ridiculous. Go get us something to drink; I'm thirsty." 

"I'll go with you," Lizzie said, getting to her feet and tugging Isaac's arm until he followed her to the bar.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked and Sarah knew he'd seen Isaac holding her hands.

"I am. You?" What could she say but that?

"Yes, of course." 

And they both sat there, silently and perfectly all right, until Lizzie and Isaac returned with their drinks. 

***** 

A week later, a private walked up to her table just as she was finishing breakfast, saluted, and told her that Isaac would like to see her at her earliest convenience. She thanked the young man, took her dirty dishes to the appropriate bin, and headed to Isaac's workshop.

It was quiet, but then it was only six in the morning; most of the scientists kept late hours and slept in. But Isaac was sitting at his workbench, a modified Colt in his hands. 

"That's a beauty," she said, taking it when he offered it to her. "It's got good balance."

"It should. I made it for you. Lizzie said you complained that the gun you currently use pulls to the left. This one shouldn't give you any problems." 

"You didn't have to, but thank you." She smiled at him, eager to give it a go at the shooting range. "Did you make Lizzie something special, too?" 

"Of course. She practically demanded it," he said with a little laugh.

Sarah smiled fondly as she thought about how that conversation must have went. "She's good at getting what she wants." 

"I noticed that." Isaac looked down at the scarred table and rubbed his thumb against a gouge in the wood. "She told me you got another letter from Joseph; that there was bad news." 

"Stevie has pneumonia." Sarah swallowed hard as she thought about Stevie in the hospital without her there. "He was born a month early and the doctor said he probably wouldn't live past six months. He was so tiny, so thin, I was afraid the doctor was right. But Stevie's a fighter. No matter how sick he gets, he pulls through."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked. 

"Say a prayer for him." Sarah took a deep breath and gestured to the gun in her hand. "Come on, I want to try this out. See if it's as good as you say it is." 

***** 

In Joseph's next letter, he told her how some rich benefactor had paid the medical bills for all the children in the ward.

Sarah had her suspicions, but Isaac didn’t mention it. Neither did she. 

***** 

They shut down the last of the HYDRA manufacturing facilities in March of 1945. That night, they found an abandoned barn in a burnt out village and feasted on moldy cheese and bottle of wine that was hardly better than vinegar. 

"We still gotta find that last base," Jones said, wincing after taking a swig of the wine. "You think Carter and his boys will find somethin'?"

"If anyone can, it's him." There was admiration in Lizzie's voice and the men jeered playfully, teasing her until she blushed. 

"Oh, don't you boys be jealous, I'm sure you can buy yourself some admiration the next time we're in London," Sarah said. "What was the name of that brothel you like so much, Dum Dum?" 

"Aw, Cap, why you gotta be so mean?" Dugan grinned at her, not at all shamed and Sarah laughed. 

"Finish your dinner, children, and get some rest. We have a long walk to the rendezvous point tomorrow." 

***** 

They'd only been back in London for a few days before they shipped out again, not that any of them really minded. Martin uncovered intel that Doctor Zola was on the move and that he would be vulnerable to attack.

So there they were, on a snowy mountain in the middle of nowhere waiting to slide down a cable onto the top of a damn train. Sarah wasn't quite sure how her life came to this and she wasn't sure if she should be happy about it. 

Behind her, Morita was playing with the radio, trying find HYDRA's frequency. 

"You sure you want to do this, Lizzie?" she asked.

Lizzie shrugged. "It can't be any worse than the Cyclone at Coney Island."

"You always throw up after riding that thing."

"I'll try not to get any on your uniform," Lizzie said with a hearty laugh.

Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but Jones interrupted them. "We got confirmation, Zola's on that train. HYDRA's dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he's going, they must need him bad."

Falsworth clapped his hands together. "Ladies, gentlemen, let's get moving." 

She nodded and exchanged looks with Lizzie and Jones. "We have a ten second window. We miss that and… splat." 

"Mind the gap," Falsworth said unhelpfully and Dugan made a smartarse remark, but by then Sarah wasn't listening.

Sarah hooked her pulley to the cable, held on tight, and pushed off. The icy cold wind slapped against her face and took her breath away. She tried not too think too much about the empty space below her, but it wasn't easy. But soon enough she was above the train: she let go and landed in a crouch to steady herself.

Lizzie and Jones followed her and she didn't move until she was sure they were both safely on the train, then they moved forward quickly. She and Lizzie took the first ladder down to one of the doors. They would take care of any HYDRA soldiers on the train while Jones extracted Zola. 

The inside of the train car was quiet, too quiet; Sarah held her shield tightly and pulled out her gun. She advanced to the next car and just as she cleared the door, it closed behind her and she was hit by weapon fire. The force threw her back against the wall, but she took cover, and thought quickly. 

Complicated plans could be fun, but sometimes, brute strength was the only way to go, especially in tight quarters. Sarah steeled her nerves and in between shots, she ran forward, her shield held before her. When she got close enough, she bashed the soldier's face with her shield; he went down. 

Sarah stood there a moment, took a deep breath, then turned to head back; Lizzie still needed her help. She opened the door and ducked back when a HYDRA soldier shot at her.

Lizzie was huddled behind some equipment just inside the other car and Sarah could tell she was out of bullets. She tossed her gun at Lizzie, then rushed into the room, shoving one of the weapon crates at the soldier and knocking him out. 

"I had him," Lizzie said.

"I know, I know," she replied, smiling, that's when she noticed that the HYDRA soldier had gotten up. She raised her shield just in time, but the impact of the weapon knocked her into the wall and her shield flew out of her hands. She was lucky it hadn't done worse; the damn weapon had also blown a hole in the side of the train car.

Of course, without her shield she was a sitting duck. Lizzie must have realized it as well because she picked up the shield and began shooting at the soldier. But Lizzie was no match for him; when he returned fire, the impact of the weapons threw her through the hole. 

Sarah gasped and would have followed immediately but for that damn soldier. She grabbed her shield, which had fallen out of Lizzie's hands, and in a few moves, bashed his head in. 

Then she ran for the hole and there was Lizzie clutching at what was left of the metal ladder. Sarah grasped the side of the train and reached out. "Lizzie, grab my hand. Come on, damn you!"

Lizzie reached out and Sarah almost had her. She could feel Lizzie's fingers brush hers, but then the ladder gave way.

"No!" Sarah screamed, watching in horror as Lizzie fell. "No, no, no." She clutched at the train and sobbed.

No.

***** 

The club that Isaac had taken them to so long ago was nothing more than a burnt out shell. Sarah sat at the rickety table, an almost empty bottle of good Irish whiskey in front of her. She could barely taste it for her tears. 

There was a sound at the door and she turned to see Martin walk towards her. "We've been looking for you."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I can't get drunk. When Doctor Erskine mentioned it to the recruits way back in the beginning, I didn't understand why it would be so important to know. But now I do." She took a shaky breath. "I killed her." 

"That's not true and you know it."

"You read the report." Sarah's mouth twisted and she fought to keep control of her emotions.

"I did." Martin touched her shoulder. "She knew the risks, Sarah, maybe even better than you. But she wanted to fight. She wanted to fight beside you."

"Her pain was mine, her happiness was mine… She was my sister, Martin." And now she was dead; Sarah was going to wipe HYDRA off the face of the Earth. 

"She loved you, too. And I know that if she were here now, she'd tell you that she'd do it again. She wouldn't change a damn thing," he said.

Sarah knew what he was true, but it still hurt. "Will you have a drink with me?"

Martin nodded and found another glass, which he cleaned with his handkerchief. He poured them each a drink, then held his glass up. "To Lizzie."

"Yes," she said softly, "to Lizzie." 

***** 

Sarah sat in the war room, letting the discussion wash over her. It didn’t matter what they said, what plans they might come up with; she knew what she had to do. She'd gone over the strategies in her head and only one made sense. 

She dragged her attention back to the conversation in time to hear Phillips say, "Hydra's last base is here, in the Alps, five hundred feet below the surface."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Morita asked, "I mean, it's not like we can just knock on the front door."

"Actually, we can." Sarah's resolve didn't waver, not even when the room went silent and everyone stared at her. "Or I can. That's exactly what I'm going to do." 

***** 

Back in the early days of her unexpected military career, Isaac had gifted her with a motorcycle. "I know you won't be able to use it much, but it'll come in handy."

"I don’t know how to ride," she'd said and he promised to teach her. 

And it had been useful a number of times, as it was now. She loved riding it; the wind on her face, the speed of it, the power, even when riding to her possible death. The little extras Isaac had built into it were nice as well, especially since she was riding into a HYDRA base with said enemies on her tail.

She took care of them, and the tank trying to stand between her and base, violently, riding up the inclined wall, and landing on the grounds with a heavy thud. Sarah hit a few buttons on the motorcycle, murmured a soft goodbye, and jumped, her shield ready for the soldiers converging on her. 

She didn't flinch when her motorcycle hit the building in front of it and exploded. 

Sarah fought hard; she didn't want them to think she'd let them take her, but she made sure to make several crucial mistakes that would lead to her capture. 

A few of the soldiers marched her into Schmidt's base and satisfaction burned hot in her belly when he walked towards her. 

"Arrogance might not be a uniquely American trait, but you do it better than anyone else, Captain," he said smugly and Sarah fought the urge to bare her teeth. "But there are limits to what a woman can do. Or did Erskine tell you that the serum would make you equal to me." 

"He told me you were a mistake. One that he would regret until the day he died," she replied.

"He resented my genius. He tried to deny me what was rightfully mine." Schmidt stepped closer to her. "Did he tell you were special?"

"No." It wasn’t about being special; it was about being decent. "I'm just a girl from Brooklyn." 

Schmidt backhanded her, then ordered his men to put her on her knees. 

"Was that it?" Sarah laughed at him. "Is that the best you can do?"

"No, but unfortunately, I'm on a tight schedule."

"What a coincidence. So am I." That was when her men crashed through the windows. She fought off the men holding her as Schmidt turned and ran. As soon as the last HYDRA soldier had been taken care of, Falsworth tossed her her shield.

"You shouldn't leave that lying around, Cap," he said.

"Thanks." She snatched it out of the air and ran after Schmidt. The bastard was slippery; she had to dodge gunfire. As he headed through a door, she threw her shield at him, but it got caught as the doors tried to close. "Damn." She was about to follow when a HYDRA soldier came at her with a flamethrower. She might have been burnt to a crisp, but that's when Martin and the cavalry showed up. 

He put a half a dozen bullets into the soldier. 

"You didn’t stay with Isaac, make sure he waited until the base was clear before moving in?" Isaac had insisted on coming—much to everyone's frustration—but he'd promised to wait for the all clear before stepping onto the base. They all knew the likelihood of that happening.

"I tied him to a tree."

She laughed. "I better go. Be safe."

"You, too," he called to her, as she ran after Schmidt. 

Unfortunately, by the time she made it to the hangar, the plane was taxiing away. She slipped her shield onto her back, took a deep breath and began to run. She might have made it, too, if it hadn't been for Schmidt's men. 

Sarah slowed to a stop and cursed under her breath. That was when Isaac, in a lovely black car, screeched to a stop beside her. "Hey, doll, looking for a ride?" 

"You ass," she said, jumping into the passenger seat. "You're supposed to wait until the base is clear!"

"You're welcome." He laughed and hit the gas. 

They quickly caught up with the plane and Sarah said, "Keep it steady." 

"Don't get killed." Isaac's voice broke.

She stared at his anguished face. Before she could changer her mind, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then she climbed onto the hood of the car and leaped up to grab the landing gear as it rose into the plane.

As soon as she was safely inside, she began to explore: the hold of the plane held rows of bombs, each one with a city's name painted on the side. There was one for New York and her chest felt tight with fear. 

She grabbed her shield and destroyed the mechanism to open the weapon bay doors. When that was done she began smashing the propellers on the bombs. Although why the hell Schmidt would put propellers and cockpits in a bomb were beyond her. She was almost done when several of Schmidt's men, probably the pilots, walked in on her. 

Sarah moved quickly, smashing her shield into one's face, stabbing another in the neck. She was brutal, and she didn't care. All she could think about was that bomb with New York painted on it.

When the last of them was dead, she made her way to the cockpit of the plane. It was time to finally take care of Schmidt. 

When she entered the cockpit, she stepped lightly, slowly advancing on the pilot's chair, which was hidden from view by what looked like a power source, if the blue glow was anything to go by. She'd hoped to catch Schmidt unawares, but just as she was within arm's reach, she heard the whine of a HYDRA gun and spun around, deflecting a shot with her shield. It bounced off and blew a hole in the windshield of the plane.

"You don't give up, do you?" Schmidt said.

"No." She stalked over to him, deftly using her shield as he shot at her again and again. When she was close enough, she knocked the weapon from his hands and punched him. He punched back and soon they were trading blows, careening around the room in a violent dance.

Sarah gave as good as she got. No matter what Schmidt might think about her, she was a match for him. She threw him into the flight controls and the plane jerked, beginning a rapid descent. They continued to fight, even while being flung against the hull. 

Then somehow Schmidt managed to get the ship stabilized. "We could be gods!" he shouted, pulling out a gun.

"I don't want to be a god." Sarah just wanted to be with her family and her friends. She moved to position herself, dodging his shots. When she was where she needed to be, she threw her shield at him. She hit him and he went down, but the shield kept going, sheering off the top of the power source and embedding itself into the flight controls. 

Blue light poured out from the power source and Sarah knew that couldn’t be good. 

"What have you done?" Schmidt asked, getting to his feet and walking over to pull a cube—the cube Zola mentioned in his interrogation, most likely—from the wrecked machinery. 

The cube began to glow in Schmidt's hand, shooting off flares of light that got more numerous as the seconds ticked by. Then something happened and the sky changed and suddenly light from the cube became unbearable and Sarah looked away, shielding her face.

Schmidt screamed, then just as quickly, the light was gone and so was he. 

The cube burned through the floor of the plane and dropped out of sight. Sarah might have worried about it, but she had bigger concerns. She pulled her shield from the controls and sat at the pilot's chair. 

Good God, it was a mess, but despite that, the plane was still headed for New York. She flipped on the radio and said, "This is Captain Rogers, can anyone hear me? Hello?"

The radio crackled to life and she almost cried when she heard Isaac's voice. "Sarah, is that you? Are you all right?"

"Schmidt's dead, but I'm fine." She took a deep breath and held steering controls steady. "The plane took a lot of damage."

"Tell me your coordinates. I'll find you someplace safe to land." 

Sarah bit her lip. "There isn't going to be a safe landing. Isaac, I have to put it in the water."

"No, no, you don't. I can guide you. Sarah, tell me your coordinates—" He sounded frantic and near tears. 

"Isaac! It's heading to New York. Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere, but if I wait any longer, people will die. I have to do this. I'm sorry." 

"Sarah." Isaac was crying now, she could hear it in his voice. "Please."

"This is my choice. I have to do this." She pushed on the steering throttle and the plane began its descent. "Isaac, will you watch over Stevie for me? Tell him about his ma. Tell him I died to protect him and his da?"

"Of course. God, Sarah of course I will. I promise." He sobbed. "I love you, Sarah. I love you so much. I want you to know that."

"Isaac." Sarah's heart was pounding in her chest and she could see ground getting closer and closer. "I—" 

But before she could say anything else, the plane hit the water and it poured through the windshield and into her mouth and lungs. 

It was cold. It was so cold and everything was going numb.

She closed her eyes and let the sea take her.

***** 

Sarah knew from the moment she opened her eyes that something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones—a low level thrum that set her teeth on edge—but she kept a smile on her face, the one Isaac used to call her USO smile. 

“I’d like to see Colonel Philips as soon as possible. Or Isaac—I mean, Mr. Stark.” She tugged at the fabric of her trousers. 

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” the young woman said with a smile. 

“That’s a lovely shade of lipstick. I’ve never seen that color before. Where did you get it?” Sarah slowly got to her feet.

“Oh, I don’t remember.” The woman’s hand twitched towards her hip and that was all the tell Sarah needed. 

“You’re lying. This whole place is a lie.” She tensed, ready for action. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Captain.”

“I’m not a Captain!” she said, and rushed the woman. Sarah managed to muscle her way out of the room into a corridor. She cursed softly and ran as fast as she could, bursting through a glass door on the street. 

It was a confusion of lights and people and automobiles. She ran and ran until she was surrounded and then she stood there, trembling, staring up at… at she didn’t know what. What was this place? Was it heaven? Was it hell?

“Cap!”

Sarah turned slowly and looked at the bald, one-eyed man who’d called out to her. “Where am I?"

“Not where. When. You’ve been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years.”

“Seventy.” She shook her head slowly. “My son? My husband?”

“We should—“

“No!” Sarah cut him off. “You tell me, you tell me now!”

The man nodded. “Joseph Rogers died forty-two years ago from a heart attack. I’m sorry.”

She closed her eyes, her chest tightening and her eyes stinging with tears. “And Stevie?”

“Alive,” he said and she let out a soft sob of relief. “He’s seventy-one years old.”

She covered her mouth with her hands; she’d missed everything. She’d missed his whole life. She…

The man put his arm around her. “My name is Nick Fury, I’m the Director of SHIELD, one of the good guys. Let’s go back to my office and I’ll debrief you.” 

Sarah nodded slowly, stepping away from him. She wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. “All right.”

“Welcome home,” Fury said.

She looked around at the strange, new world around her and wasn’t so sure how welcoming it would be.


End file.
